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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916002">sit in my circle and hold my hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_coded/pseuds/soda_coded'>soda_coded</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Animal Transformation, Blood Drinking, Case Fic, Consensual Somnophilia, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Good Cop Bad Cop, M/M, Macro/Micro, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Silly, Teasing, Undead, Witches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:08:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_coded/pseuds/soda_coded</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Shane work for the metaphysical department of the LAPD, fool around and get cursed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>209</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chunks of what was going to be a bigger au. Will dump more as it gets typed.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shane hates when it’s witches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan- Ryan doesn’t count. Necromancy is different- closer to Shane’s heart surely. Uncomfortably close, really. So, they’ve fucked a couple of times. Maybe more than that. It hardly means anything. Means Ryan has a sweet body, a tight ass, and deep, deep brown eyes that watch every part of Shane’s face at the same time when they argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is a lot. They definitely argue more than they fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane bats aside a frond, fluttering in his face. That was the thing with witches really, even Ryan- even his pet necromancer- they were all tricky. The V’lack demons have a saying for it- roughly translated ‘if you have three eyes, the witch has four’. Not a perfect metaphor there, but then Shane couldn’t see through this jungle for shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night had started off okay. Tapas and beer at that little bar Ryan had showed him- a little tequila. Okay, a little more tequila, but who didn’t love drinking on a weekday? And then the call, and then the crime scene, and he had assured Ryan he was fine to drive. He wasn’t fine to see that poor girl’s jaw reassemble itself from pulp and teeth on the floor, while Ryan’s eyes rolled back in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her testimony hadn’t been clear- at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not until they were already in a cab home, rain sleeting the windows, and Ryan had jolted forward like he’d been stuck, and then he was ordering the cab to pull over- to pull over now. Shane followed him- down the street, and then with more grumbling, over the low garden wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That it was a witch’s garden became apparent. Somebody with quite a green thumb compared to Ry’s modest window planters. That they were fucked wasn’t something they’d figure out until they were already fucking separated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or who knew maybe Ryan is just fine, leaving Shane to fumble in this wet hell by himself. The rain is muted by the heavy foliage, but everything is still somehow wet, and dripping- entirely too alive for Shane’s taste. Leaves, poking stiffly from branches toward him with every step, smearing him with fresh water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it, fuck this.” He mutters. “Ryan! RYAN-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, shut up, fucker-” Ryan says, appearing beside him, and his eyelashes are glued together with the water, his white button down all but see-through from the rain- the fucking out of nowhere rain- “Shit, Ry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘The rain’ Shane means to say. ‘The goddamn rain, Ry!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-your nipples. I can see your nipples.” Is what comes out of his mouth and Shane grimaces. Not what he meant to say, not even fucking close. Not his best line, but certainly true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?” Ryan says, but it comes out considering not incredulous or disbelieving, a sane reaction to a vampire’s advances in a witch’s garden. Ryan is so- so fucking brave. “I mean, jesus, you’re soaking-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand comes up to brush Shane’s hair out of his face, away from where it’s dripping down his nose, and when he pulls away Shane can’t help it, he smells so good- he nips after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a single click of fangs, but Ryan laughs, bright in this dark forest, and Shane needs that laugh in his mouth- it doesn’t matter why. He doesn’t need to think about the feelings welling in his heart- focuses on the blood filling his mouth, from Ryan letting a fang pierce his lower lip. Shane is already hard, way harder than he should be from a kiss, even a good one, even a bloody one. Even blood that drank like chilled wine, the first frost melting on a lake- his little necromancer with one foot in life and one in death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Shane’s next kiss is savage, too hard, too intense, and Ryan meets him head on, biting Shane’s tongue until it stings- until Shane backs him into a tree, and can finally focus enough to work on his buckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to leave evidence.” Ryan says, but not like he’s going to stop, like it’s a certainty. “Everyone’s going to know we’re fucking-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In this rain?” Shane says, ignoring the terror and joy the thought gives him. “Tell them it was magic-related-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally has his hand around Ryan’s cock- Shane leans forward and licks the raindrops from above his lip- squeezes the hot flesh in his hand. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to think about why he should.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you make me so-” Ryan says, through gritted teeth, and Shane drops to his knees before he can make himself not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s new-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryans’s never really let his mouth near his cock, even though Ryan’s sucked him into his clever wet furnace several times, which, okay,</span>
  <em>
    <span> fangs</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He gets it. Shane offered once, but he’d been drunk, and had a bullet graze him earlier, so when Ryan declined he didn’t feel too bad, but</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-but he fucking wants it. Licks a fat drop of rainwater off the head of him, and shudders. Widens his mouth and sucks him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan groans, puts a hand over his mouth- it won’t stay there. Shane already knows Ryan can’t stay quiet- can’t especially when he wants it, and he’s so fucking hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane can feel his hot, human pulse in his throat when he presses forward. He doesn’t have to breathe, but it still requires concentration- effort to keep his fangs up and away. Harder still when the taste of this human makes them ache. Ryan’s fingers creep into Shane’s wet hair, and he’s whining, </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryan has two, tiny holes just at the base of his dick when they stumble out of the garden and onto a pretty terracotta patio, and he’s pissed about it. Shane’s pretty satisfied. He may be chafing now, but he was screaming Shane’s name when he came. Hell of a way to introduce yourself to the suspect- ‘Shane, Shane, please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shaaaane</span>
  </em>
  <span>-’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a prick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Shane said agreeably. And then, to the patio at large. “Hello? Anybody home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you like my garden?” A voice asked. A middle-aged woman stood on the porch, cats milling about her feet, looking unsuspecting. Shane’s eyes narrowed. Witches, you see. Tricky. “I could hear your screams all the way-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you.” Shane snickers, and Ryan’s hands balled into fists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was- very, um, wet, but that’s not important. Ma’am, are you Emma Hobb-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” She says. Pauses for a moment, eyeing them suspiciously. “That’s all you have to say about my rain garden… ‘wet’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what else there is to say. Ma’am, where were you earlier this evening-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Removing that poor girl’s eyes.” She says calmly, and Shane winces. “You know that. But really, you didn’t feel anything in my forest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Ryan says resolutely, while Shane smiles. “But you are under arrest, Ms. Hobb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you boys fucked-” Ms. Hobb says, and Shane’s snickers turn into full-fledged guffaws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamnit, Shane!” Ryan snaps, rounding on him. “Do you have to be so fucking smug-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the one screaming my name, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you more upset?” Ms. Hobb says, bewildered. “That was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>eiderdum tress</span>
  </em>
  <span>- it should have made you- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why everything tasted so funny!” Shane says, snapping his fingers. “I knew your cock tasted different-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus.” Ryan mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good lord.” Ms. Hobbs, murderous-sex-garden-witch says faintly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and now we don’t have to explain any evidence-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I saw on the news the cops had become corrupt.” Ms. Hobbs hisses. “But to allow gays in the blue- my Harold must be rolling in the grave I put him in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re insane.” Shane tells her, and she looks at him as though he’d told her no refund, only store credit, even though she had the original receipt and packaging. Still, credit where it’s due. “But you grow an excellent, sexy garden. Felt so natural, I wouldn’t have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natural!” Her face twists further, cats scattering at the ring to her voice, the crackle of sudden energy around her. “Only natural to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My garden was designed to make intruders experience the depravities they carry in with them from the streets. That’s why I stay here, safe. My cats, and my tv-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for two weeks, Carla Anders, whose eyeballs you removed from her this morning, before putting her body out with your trash. If the garbage routes hadn’t been swapped, we would have been here before the rain, and avoided your stupid eiderdum pollen entirely! Now, you are under arrest Emma Hobbs, for murder and magical malpractice!” Ryan shouts, and the words carry their own weight, a cold weight, intent and ritual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Shane adds. Vampires were kind of useless against witches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but dear.” Emma coos. “I brought the rain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who care-” Shane starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit.” Ryan said, and looked up just as the sky began to darken. “You built a sex-garden, you’re supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>green</span>
  </em>
  <span>- if you’re a weather witch, who built the fucking garden-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my Harold did.” She says. “He was always so good at traps like that. Had a darkness in him, my Harold-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Harold was pretty fucking gay if he designed that garden.” Shane says. Lightning cracks the air. Close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shane.” Ryan says urgently. “We gotta go-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So soon?” Ms. Hobbs says and the rain drops from the sky like a brick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shane!” Ryan screams. If he was human he wouldn’t have heard him through the sudden downpour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t, so he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane moves through the rain, and has Ms. Hobbs shackled before she could move. Iron shackles, the best thing to hold most witches, only thing in some cases. Ryan had joined the precinct back when it was common practice for witches to have to try the shackles the way human cops had to try a taser. Shane hadn’t ever asked. It didn’t look pleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain slows… stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- what are you?” Ms. Hobbs asks faintly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A vampire.” He says. “Let me guess-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abomination!” She spits, and Shane sighs. Smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for getting me laid.” He tells her, ignoring Ryan’s groan, the squelching of his steps, the only noise in the silence left by the sudden ceasing of rain. The downpour had stopped as soon as the cuffs had circled her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is still praying when they put her in the back of the police car Ryan called. And since everybody would know they were fucking from the report, he pulls him in for a big fat gay kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like witches, but necromancers are okay.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ryan takes a thoughtful drag, sucking a bit at the end to catch the last gasp of smoke. Passed, fingers carefully cradling the middle of the joint handing it end first to Shane, who has merged with his couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane takes it, their hands a brief clumsy dance. Lifts it to his lips, fangs peeking through and Ryan watches the smoke drift to the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Shane says. Takes another puff, burning the cherry at the end until it glows and his voice comes out in a croak. “Do you think ghosts can get stoned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan blinks, trying to envision a smokey spirit. A ganja ghoul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, they could just drift through the smoke. Osmosis- ghostmosis- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, as I’ve said before, Summoners now are working off of the theory that ghosts are a residual manifestation of energy- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-but can that energy get lit?” Shane asks, pounding one fist on the arm of Ryan’s couch, staring up at the ceiling, head tipped back. “I’d want to get stoned if I were a ghost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t know that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d want to get drunk too.” Shane says, finally raising his head to give Ryan a red-eyed stare. “I’d be a fucking ghost, of course I’d want to get stoned- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-or maybe revenge, or closure, or to see your loved ones- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah.” Shane says. “I’d just want to get stoned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises the joint to his lips and takes a drag, only to find the cherry has died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t come back as a ghost.” Ryan says confidently, and Shane snorts, then shoots him a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care? Planning to off me, Bergara- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but you’re going to die eventually, and if I thought you’d come back as a ghost- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Shane asks, offended but somehow still extremely goofy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’d probably be more interested in proving that ghosts </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ryan!” Shane says, sitting up and ashing all down his flannel. “I would be an excellent ghostly guest, a spectre spectator- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just admitted you’d be high all the time?” Ryan contradicts, laughter bubbling out of him. “I’d hear a small voice saying ‘where’s… a… lighter… ‘ “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane looks at him. Shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I was a ghost, couldn’t I just light my joints with, like, pyrokinesis? Or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, so you’d burn my apartment down!” Ryan says. “Also, no, I don’t think dying grants you super powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you’re Patrick Swayze.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Ryan agrees. Watches Shane set the joint onto his coffee table with the slow precision of a vamp who shouldn’t drive. “You done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy, I am toasted.” Shane says. Kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, immediately knocking the joint to the floor. “Why, you have somewhere to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Ryan says, and Shane turns just enough so Ryan can see his stupid smile. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama Mia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama Mia.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Two more chunks to go! Feels good to have this out of my docs. Please know I support Bloody Mary with all my heart.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Stop laughing.” Shane says. Puts his hands to his hips, and god, oh god, they look like little chicken wings- Ryan’s fucking eyes are watering he’s laughing so hard. “C’mon, stop laughing- you’re shaking the table- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan can’t stop laughing- may never stop laughing. His sides ache, his mouth aches, he can barely breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-</span>
  <em>
    <span>small</span>
  </em>
  <span>- “ Is all he manages to squeeze out and then he’s off again, Shane still staring up at him, obviously exasperated. “-so- ahhhhhahhha!- </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeaky</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Ahahaha-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ryan!” Shane squeaks, the sound too- too- </span>
  <em>
    <span>too fucking much</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ryan grips the edge of the table, and tiny Shane leaps back on his tiny feet, to avoid Ryan’s heavy hand. It’s perfect and hilarious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on tiny Shane’s face is oddly sobering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you done?” Shane says as Ryan’s guffaws turn into giggles and the giggles putter out to a single wheeze. Finally it’s just Ryan, sitting there, sort of red, watching Shane pace the length of his coffee table, on his legs like little teaspoons. “Can we finally focus on me please? This is a huge- problem. Shut up, Ryan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-sorry.” Ryan tries, squeezed out past his helpless laughter, through his smile. His breath catches and he wheezes while Shane scoffs. “Sorry! Really. I just. I don’t think this is a big deal- oh fuck- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamnit, Ryan!” Shane shouts. “This is awful, you need to focus-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m sorry, shit, Shane this is so weird, you- you look like a fucking pencil, with your huge head for the eraser- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahaha-</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew I should have gone to Jen-” Shane mutters, and Ryan bristles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That witch is good, but this is voodoo.” Ryan says, sniffing back his earlier excitement, to level with his vampire friend. “This is something a little beyond… dabbling. I’m going to have to- to ask around- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean this could take a while?” Shane asks, sort of sullenly, but he uncrosses his arms, and is examining the edges of Ryan’s notebook with dull fascination. Ryan supposes everything is more interesting up close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awful. I’m- I’m- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About six inches.” Ryan says, holding his thumb and forefinger wide beside Shane, ignoring his friends subtle flinch at the movement. “I think. It’s better than it could have been? Has your weight been stable? Any fluctuations?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes Ryan.” Shane say snippily. “I actually think I’ve lost a bit recently. Don’t know why I didn’t mention-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane relents when he sees Ryan’s face. “If you meant since the original loss, then no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘original loss’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “ Ryan says loftily, rolling his eyes. “When you got Honey-I-Shrunk-The-Kid’sd, you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever. No shrinkage? No pain?” He nods when Shane does. “Okay. Anything strange you can think of? Any weird cravings? How about changes in mood or thought, new powers- no- nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan nods again when Shane shakes his head. Thinks for a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing when it happened?” He asks finally, and Shane stops scurrying. “What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was at the bookstore, and then I was six inches tall.” Shane says flatly. “After I crawled out of my clothes, I used my phone to text you, even though the keypad was exhausting- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is currently wearing a piece of pillowcase Ryan had sacrificed to the cause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then I came and found you.” Ryan finishes more calmly. “I mean, did you hear anything- see anything- touch anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was seeing and touching and smelling books, Ryan, not voodoo dolls-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s my peanut-sized brain.” Shane mutters, kicking at a piece of dust. “Maybe I’ll be small and dumb forever- just like you, Ryan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shane.” Ryan says seriously. “Dude. We’re going to figure this out, get you back to your normal stupid height-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, and then we’ll have a cure for you too.” Shane cuts in cattily, and Ryan rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” He says. “Now seriously, have you pissed anybody off? Do you remember what book, maybe-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I piss everyone off.” Shane says. “But I try not to piss off the witches-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You piss off everyone.” Ryan says slowly. “That’s not- that’s not great- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking understatement.” Shane says, and Ryan is overcome with the urge to poke his belly like he’s the Pillsbury Doughboy. He sighs instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pissing me off.” Ryan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have done this.” Shane says. “I think you like my cock exactly-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Ryan says. “Jesus. Okay, look, I need to go back to that bookstore and try to figure out what could have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going with you.” Shane says determinedly, tiny hands on his tiny hips- tiny mouth turned down in a tiny frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not- not unless I get to put you in the pickle jar so you’re safe-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your frog jar?” Shane says, horrified. “You want me to sit in the frog jar?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re too small for a car seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“- and being surrounded by glass, sure, that’s safe-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to do?” Ryan says and he doesn’t realize he’s shouting until Shane flinches back, and then he stops immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane kicks at a piece of fluff on his table, and when he speaks again, he sounds dejected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” He says. “Thought maybe you could help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride to the bookstore is quiet and not because of Shane’s hilariously tiny voice, but because Ryan is a jerk and he deserves the silence. That and because by the time Ryan realizes that the radio is off because Shane is normally the one who picks it out, it’s too late and they‘re almost back to the bookstore. Ryan even knew where it is- Shane and he don’t live in the same neighborhood, but everything in LA feels like it’s either next door, or a million miles away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he needs to get the ‘Quick Trips’ charm on the subaru replaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car rolls to a gentle stop, and Ryan still kind of mom-arms the passenger seat where Shane is sitting, cross legged on top of one of Ryan’s hoodies, both hands gripping the soft fabric like he’s riding an elephant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re there.” Ryan says, sort of afraid to disturb the uncomfortable silence they’ve built together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m small, not a child.” Shane says and even though he sort of sounds like he’s pouting Ryan knows what he means. This is definitely harder for Shane that it is for him and even if he can’t say it he- he wants to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Ryan says, and they sit there for a second before Shane stands. He looks like the world’s smallest ghost in his pillowcase toga. “I’m not- I’m-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it.” Shane says and he sounds calmer at least, which is good if Ryan’s current suspect is somebody with enough oompf to pull off bodily transformation on a whim. They need to be together on this… Ryan grimaces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not- not like that. That’s- complicated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a minute to figure out where to- how to get Shane into the building without drawing every eye in the shop. Ryan would prefer to be circumspect- he usually does. People have a natural distaste for necromancers, a quiet discomfort around him once they know, a sudden chill and Ryan’s always hated it. It boils down to, if Shane pisses everyone off, Ryan does his best not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good cop. Bad cop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too bad his partner in crime had been demoted and Ryan’s smiling as he walks in, and he can practically feel the frustration vibrating from the front pocket of his jean jacket. Whatever. He’d offered him the frog jar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan stops just inside the door and tries to- tries to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Catch the aura. Whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just feels like a bookstore. Not even one of the cutesy-hipster-bookstore/java shops, but a regular, discount bookstore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. He already feels stupid. It isn’t like he was expecting advanced conjuration or anything but he was expecting to feel… something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looking for something?” A bored looking woman from behind the counter asks and Ryan just shakes his head before walking further into the store. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s bigger than it had seemed from the outside, extending farther than the small shop front had implied. Everything smells like pine and old books, just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like a bookstore. Ryan sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries the metaphysical section first, even though Shane had told him he’d gone nowhere near it and Ryan had believed him. For a vampire, Shane is damn near null when it comes to magic, which made this all the more strange. Why would anybody waste the power of transformation on collapsing his partner like a telescope? He's annoying, sure, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> annoying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find what you’re looking for yet?” It's the woman from earlier, wheeling a book cart slowly past him, and Ryan shakes his head again. Traces back over the places Shane had told him he’d looked- historical, general novels and then the discount shelves where Ryan finds an older addition of a published grimoire he already has and decides to get it anyway. It's a dollar and ninety-six cents, he's going to get it, okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then- then he doesn’t know what to do, so he slowly wanders toward the front of the store, and then waits patiently in line until he can set his single sad purchase on the counter and greet the shopkeep with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find what you were looking for?” She asks around her bubblegum, without even looking at his pitiful purchase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Ryan responds on autopilot, and she quirks her mouth in a half-smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you didn’t.” She says. “But you’re politer than your friend, so I’ll let the lie go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend?” Ryan asks, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” She says, raising one manicured eyebrow. “Y’know. White guy, funny eyebrows, pisses everyone off? Used to be… taller?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears a noise from his pocket just before it starts thrumming, and Ryan’s still putting it all together when Shane’s head pops out the top, glasses askew from his struggle, hair just wild.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did this to me?” Shane shouts, and Ryan he just- fuck, he can’t help it, he just giggles, at the absolute insanity that this is. That his day has become. He brings his hand up to cover his mouth and Shane slaps at his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He shouts, but he’s sort of laughing too, and Ryan makes as though to stuff him back into his pocket, before helping him clamber out. His toga is in natural shambles, and RYan doesn’t- doesn’t look. It’s weird. He’s so. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Small</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting.” The woman says. She looks fun but sharp, with a lot of rings and already Ryan wants to like her- </span>
  <em>
    <span>if only she hadn’t shrunken his best friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look lady, you need to unshrink me, right now!” Shane says, pointing a finger over her counter and Ryan is unsurprised when she ignores him with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry.” She says. “You’ll unshrink yourselves as soon as you’ve learned your lesson. Surely you know how this works?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He really doesn’t.” Ryan confirms with a smile, and holds out his hand for a handshake. He should’ve known she was the culprit- power is easily disguised, and with the world they live in, and societies general distrust for magic users, sometimes it's a necessity. “I’m Ryan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not all powers are as accepted as others and Ryan knows that the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at his hand for only a moment, before picking up his book to scan. “Four eleven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan blinks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was in the discount section.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must have been misplaced.” She says, and when Ryan just looks at her, she looks back. “All prices are already in the system, and don’t you have this one already anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want it then.” Ryan tells her, and she frowns, the jovial shape to her face turning inwards at his refusal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can’t afford it?” She says. Looks him up and down, and then out to the car and back. “You seem like you can afford five bucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh is it five bucks now?” Ryan says irritably, and that’s when Shane’s tiny arms push the sunglasses display off of the counter where they’d left him, knocking it to the floor with an abrupt clatter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boy, you really haven’t learned your lesson.” She tells Shane disapprovingly, as Ryan bends to pick up the scattered glasses. “I’m Mary. Bloody Mary to my friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>unsmall</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Shane tells her seriously, his toga very unserious. “Make me normal again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t ever be normal, freakazoid.” She tells him mockingly, and Ryan frowns when Shane steps back, like he was lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like her, Ryan.” He tells him. “That’s something a bully in like fifth grade told me. She's mean. That’s some-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you?” Ryan asks her, and when she smiles this time, her mouth is a door, and her eyes are portals, and it is infinite like the trapping reflections of mirrors besides themselves and Ryan is thankful for the cold chill of the grave that keeps him centered in that second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane’s fallen silent, and when he’s certain he’s himself, and Bloody Mary is wearing a button on her work-issued polo that says three years, not the smell of old, old blood he says. “You okay, dude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck was that?” Shane says, and he sounds subdued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Power.” She says, and her voice is still thick with it. “Enough to curse you, dickwad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look.” Ryan says placatingly, ignoring the dry click of his own throat, and the fact that he sort of hates her. “Can we not measure dicks? You’re completely right. He’s a dickwad sure, but he’s also a detective for the LAPD-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary raises one polished, blood red nail to tap the enamel pin beside her three year badge, that reads ACAB.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus.” Ryan says, while Shane put his head in his hands, muffling his shrill laughter. “Look, Bloody Mary-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Mary.” She says. “Look, I’m not helping him- he can help himself-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He really can’t.” Ryan mutters, but she ignores him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-it has a trigger like any other curse. You just have to not be a douche for a while and you’ll be back to manspreading in no time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put me back in your pocket, Ryan.” Shane says. “Pay the lady and let’s go. She’s not going to help us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“8.99.” She tells Ryan straight-faced. “You want a bag? Too bad. We're bag free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you bought that book.” Shane says sullenly, once they’re miles away and safely tucked between a truck and a sedan, idling in the drive thru. “I would’ve-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you handled her great, judging by how much she liked you.” Ryan says, and when the sedan eases forward, so does he. “You know what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Supersize me.” Shane says, and Ryan sighs. It’s hard to be mad at the prick when he looks like Angelica from Rugrats did his hair. It's pitiful. “No- I don’t care. I’m hungry- I could probably eat a whole chicken nugget.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look.” Ryan says. “She said it had a trigger- that means it’s meant to be broken-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she seemed really reasonable.” Shane says morosely. “Just a- a stand up broad, that Bloody Mary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- are you- fucking- are you some sort of pirate- ‘broad’- that’s- this is why you got cursed shopping for cookbooks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I got cursed because some witch felt like throwing her power around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan gets quiet- and he- he knows Shane didn’t mean it like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that-</span>
  </em>
  <span> like how it had sounded. He knew Shane cared about the rights of magic users, about their general oppression- the witch trials, the lack of health care, the constant police brutality they have to fight, even him, supposedly protected within the system, but to hear him say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They inch forward in line, in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything smells like gasoline and exhaustion, and Ryan takes his hand off the wheel just to rub at his eyes. If they can’t figure this out it might come down to processing at the precinct- government magicks- he may never obnoxiously loom over Ryan again-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Shane says. “That was shitty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan turns to see him picking at the fraying hem of his piece of pillowcase, and when he looks up his face was blotchy, like he's drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m- guess sincere apology wasn’t the trigger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane says tiredly, and Ryan wants to joke- wants to try to make the whole thing smaller, more trivial than it really is- can’t. Just gives him a wry smile in return, pulls up to the speaker box.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, can I get a number three? And a kids meal- no toy- no toy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay- wait- okay, so, this says that maybe whatever we chant needs to be chanted three times-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wanted you to learn a lesson.” Ryan repeats stubbornly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He's so tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-three times- where’s the list of apologetic phrases we came up with-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she wanted you to learn a lesson, it would have been a lesson she thought you needed to learn-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is it?” Shane says, milling his arms through the scattered scraps of incantations on Ryan’s desk. They’d been at this for a few hours- long enough to pile up a lot of notes, but not a lot of answers. “Aha! I’m sorry, I was wrong! I’m sorry, I was wrong! I’m sorry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I love this-” Ryan interrupts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wrong!” Shane finishes smugly, arms thrown wide, and then groans when nothing happens. “Goddamnit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.” Ryan says. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane sighs, and god, same. This shit is the worst. There are reasons why practicing magic without consent or knowledge was illegal- why Shane and Ryan work to put people who abused their powers behind bars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate being wrong.” Shane says, and Ryan sighs on a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He says. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane laughs too, and that's… nice. Good. It is. Today had been stressful, and even if Ryan didn’t always know how he felt about the vampire, he didn’t like seeing him depressed. Besides he's… sorta, cute, all ruffled and frazzled, hair wild, tiny glasses askew atop his toga.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I’m hungry.” Shane says and Ryan smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just ate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the good stuff.” Shane says, wriggling his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan laughs, and he knew what he was going to do before he’d really decided to do it. Intuitive action. He slides open the side drawer, and pulls an athame, not his best, hardly, he's pretty sure he’d picked this one up with his aunt at a flea market the last time he’d gone to visit, and in a swift motion pricks his finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Shane asks and he sounds… focused. When Ryan just laughs, he stands, abandoning his mad dusty attempts and flashes to stand before him. Ryan hadn’t seen him do anything particularly vampy since he’d been shrunk, but his loss in height certainly hadn’t defanged him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you were hungry.” Ryan says, lowering his hand flat to the table, and crooking a finger, bringing it almost eye-level to Shane, his blood welling bright before his eyes. “This is like a feast, for you right now, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Shane says, but he sounds pretty distracted. “You- we’ve never-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do to me, buddy?” Ryan says, and he hadn’t realized how fond it would sound until he said it. It is true. Ryan is used to flirting with death and danger, which made his little dalliance with Shane okay- but this is maybe the first time he’s felt truly in control. Wonders if Shane feels powerless in return. “Take my finger off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You smell like frost.” Shane said, and he sounded a little loopy, a little lost making Ryan laugh. “Are you sure-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just shut up.” Ryan said and crooked his finger a little more, overwhelming the surface tension of the fat drop of his blood, making it fall with sudden alacrity down his finger, like it was cutting him open, dividing pink flesh with a line of red, and Shane’s grip on Ryan’s hand was hard enough to make him jump, and his tongue was small, but hot on Ryan’s skin, and oh shit, that was so weird- not bad, just, oh, jesus, super weird. He lapped at the fallen red liquid in broad passes, cleaning Ryan like he was a spoon covered in batter, and Shane hadn’t eaten in a week. It was messy. Ryan was going to have to make him a new toga, and when Shane finally came up for air he looked like a freshly turned ghoul, blood covering his face and neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you taste so good.” Shane says, and he sounds drunk. “So cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, thanks?” Ryan says, a little unsure, but Shane is already straddling his wrist, toga riding up so Ryan can see the pale, stick bug length of his legs, and so that Shane can lean up and suckle from the slice across Ryan’s pointer finger. It feels… strange. Kind of stinging, but with a constant pressure that seems almost sexual, especially whenever Shane’s tongue lashes out to clean the mess he makes. Ryan tries to shift in his seat, can’t really because of the angle of his arm. He is starting to actually feel like a bit of a sicko, sitting there with a half-chub, when Shane rocks forward on his wrist, and Ryan can feel the tiny length of his hard cock drag against his skin. He gasps about when Shane did, his cock from a pessimist to an optimist in a fucking second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I- Can I bite?” Shane asks, and when he turns and sees Ryan’s face he laughs, making Ryan blush and scowl in equal measure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You pervert-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up-” Ryan mutters, dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You into little men, you fucking adorable weirdo?” Shane asks, and Ryan huffs out an incredulous laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your balls are on my arm.” Ryan says. “Forgive me for paying attention-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paying attention pretty hard, huh, Ry?” Shane says, and when he moves, it is uncannily like watching a snake strike, his teeth sinking in just below Ryan’s cut. It hurts, but only for a second, and then it’s just the hot, wet pressure of Shane’s mouth on him, and Ryan surprises himself by groaning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does it feel so-” He tries, feeling like he’s losing the control of the situation. Shane’s tiny teeth slip from his skin without his mouth unsealing- but the increase in suction is bizarrely noticeable. “-so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because my teeny tiny body turns you on in a bad way.” Shane said, and Ryan groaned laughed. He wanted to free his trapped dick- was terrified of jostling his wrist and upsetting Shane’s precarious balancing act. “Or maybe it’s been a week since we…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane trails off, and Ryan frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A week since we what?” He asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know.” Shane says. He bounces his eyebrows, and then bounces himself and something about the heat of his body pressing so intimately to Ryan’s pulse is making him pay attention harder than even before. “Since we had a case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A case…?” Ryan says, and then flushes when he gets it. A week since a case, means a week since they’ve seen each other, which means a week since they’ve fucked.  And suddenly, that seems kind of shitty to Ryan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, Shane pisses off everybody but him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Is all he says, but Shane is still lost to the blood, his hands squeezing at the pad of Ryan’s thumb so blood runs fresh from his new wounds. Shane’s teeth puncture less than a pinprick, but the cut from his athame is still oozing sluggishly, letting Shane lap at it as he will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it when you get like this.” Ryan says, and grins when Shane turns, flushed and bloodied. “Like… when you get all.. Grr-argh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just reference ‘Buffy’ at me?” Shane asks. “Don’t you know that’s considered vamphobic in this current decade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you have so many words when your little cock is so hard?” Ryan asks in a wondering tone, and Shane lets go of his thumb with a scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Ryan asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that.” Shane says. “Little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve called me short at least once everyday since you’ve met me.” Ryan says. And then, “Little guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamnit.” Shane says, annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides.” Ryan says, eyes narrowing, voce pitching low with bated excitement. “What are you going to do about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane scoffs, but his cock is still rubbing, small and warm, little ticklish jerks against Ryan’s skin like he can’t help himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could still kill you.” Shane says seriously, but his eyes are smiling. “Even this time, I’m much stronger than you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” Ryan asks, and he lets his power seep into his voice, chilling his words until they crack and break deep in his throat. Necromancers command dead flesh, and suddenly there is so little of Shane’s. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane’s back stiffens, but he is a truthful prick, Ryan will give him that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He tells Ryan seriously, making him smile. “I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think so, shrimp.” Ryan says and arches his wrist from where it’s pressed flat to the table, flexing his forearm under Shane. It causes his partner to buck and tilt, gripping for his arm as he slides down and up a bit, grinding his cock snugly in the place where their bodies meet. Shane gasps his name like a curse, and Ryan grins darkly. “Kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Ryan!” Shane gasps, and Ryan drops his wrist back down, Shane’s wet cock skidding on bare skin. “Shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to come lil’ guy?” Ryan asks, and Shane is flushing horribly, his mouth set into a dreadful scowl, but he nods. Blood smears his face, his chest, which heaves with obvious excitement. “Cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking stop.” Shane says, but even under the blood, he’s bright red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Ryan agrees amicably. “But turn around for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane looks at him for a moment, and then stands slowly, his tiny, blood-smeared toga tenting in the front, where his cock is swollen with Ryan’s blood, filling Shane’s veins. Pumping his heart and Ryan feels powerful down to his bones like this. He waits patiently, wrist flat, while Shane hesitates, and finally, finally swings a leg back over his wrist and sinks down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan grins tightly when their skin makes contact again. From this angle he can see Shane, pale and pissed. Can see the ruddy head of his cock poking eagerly out from between his thighs. It is nothing to rub his wrist along the table, a gentle rollicking motion, that rolls and tosses Shane like he’s riding a bull. Makes him grab for Ryan’s arm, gasping and yelping. Makes Ryan grin. This is definitely a better reason for carpal tunnel than normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ryan.” Shane says, voice pitched high with panic. “I’m- C’mon-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I going too fast for you, lil’ guy?” Ryan teases, and Shane- Shane who fights him for every check, even when it’s on the company card- Shane who never lets him drive- Shane who gets impatient waiting in poorly managed lines, the way some people got upset about politics or religion (‘it’s the principal of the thing!’)- that Shane-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squeezing Ryan’s wrist hard, and shuddering. His mouth opens in cute desperation, and then he’s coming, hot wet jerks across his wrist, like a surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan gapes at him, and then Shane balloons back to his enormous six foot height, and breaks Ryan’s desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, after a shower and thank you blow job that leaves Shane’s huge knobbly knees red, they both lie spread across Ryan’s plush white comforter. Ryan’s whole body hums in a pleasant way. When he looks over, Shane is grinning at his ceiling, and Ryan. Ryan thinks about how little Shane does to piss him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good?” Ryan asks, and Shane turns and grins at him. His whole face is scrubbed clean, and so detailed compared to the small smuck he’d been earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He says, and stretches, the length of his body flexing, and Ryan watches- even after he realizes he is watching. And when Shane finishes, Ryan is kissing him, so thankful that he is big enough to kiss. That he is back. He can feel the crooked curve of Shane’s lips smiling broadly against him. “Mmm. What was that for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just.” Ryan pauses. Weighs in his heart if he wants to say the words- if he wants to commit even a piece of his brain to this undead weirdo. “Missed you. I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane’s smile curls in, but instead of fading, he looks sly and joyful and brilliant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” He says. “I’ll send that on the note with the muffin basket.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, one piece left after this, and it'll be a while. It's low on my list to do, and I have to type it still, blehhh.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“If you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about peeing on the carpet-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane rolled his eyes, and the sight was so bizarre Ryan just stared at him, until Shane opened his muzzle and yapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That- that was when he started to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still didn’t need to bite me.” Ryan said in the car later, shooting Shane a wounded glance. Shane yawned, and put his head to the cracked window. Stuck his tongue out. Hellhounds, despite being a vampire’s best friend were daturnal, Ryan had found out, meaning a strange side effect of this whole thing was that Shane got to stare at the sun for the first time in over a hundred years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a second, he rolled the window down a bit more, and watched as Shane lolled his whole head out into the breeze, tongue hanging from his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a short drive to the bookstore, and when Ryan pulled up she was standing outside smoking, one leg propping her up against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sensed you coming.” She told him smugly, and Ryan grit his teeth and slammed his door shut, ignoring her curious looks for the moment. Opened his back door, letting Shane pour out, four paws and a body made of smokey, silky fur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh boy.” Bloody Mary said, pitching her cig into the bin. “I didn’t sense that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane barked at Ryan, his head whipping back and forth between the two people staring at him. Ryan could sense betrayal in his deep, doggy eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a hellhound.” Bloody Mary said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s Shane.” Ryan told her, satisfied at the way her kohl-lined eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow. Oh boy.” She said. “You guys better come inside- shit- no pets inside- oh, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s been rolling his eyes so often, I thought about taking him to the vet.” Ryan joked, watching Shane scratch at his ears, lick his belly, inspect his- never mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better get back in the car.” Bloody Mary said, ignoring him entirely. “If anybody saw me talking to a goody two shoes like you- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus.” Ryan muttered, maybe proving her point, but he clambered back into the car anyway, heard her do the same, after letting Shane in the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet in his car, intimate really, the uncomfortable silence Ryan was generating only interrupted by Shane’s gleeful panting. After a moment he yawned, a long, drawn out whine that made Ryan sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t ‘sense’ that too?” Ryan asked shortly, and Shane yapped in the ensueing silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I’m… I’m an asshole. “ Ryan said, and Mary looked up from her phone to say “What? I wasn’t listening. I was googling ‘obedience training’. I assumed that was what we were-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Ryan said, and Bloody Mary sighed, sounding bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Than what?” She asked. “You can’t possibly think I’d help you turn him back. Not when he’s so comfortable licking his own-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- you- you have to help us!” Ryan said, sitting up agitatedly. “I don’t think it has a trigger, and I have no idea how long he’ll be-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bloody Mary turned in her seat, and sniffed the air a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, it won’t last long.” She declared. “Maybe a few more hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How- </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You cannot possibly know that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Whatever, pig. I’m getting out now my break is almost over.” She paused, one hand on the door handle. “This was cool though. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Ryan said blankly, entirely unsure of why he thought she’d be any help at all. “Sure-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should ask him.” She told him, and Ryan stared at her, uncomprehending. “He’ll say yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, loser.” Bloody Mary said, and then hopped out of the car, her white blonde hair shining as she rounded the hood, and headed for the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Ryan said, and pulled slowly out of the driveway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t remember to roll the window down until they were on the highway, but as soon as he did Shane stuck his head out of the window, surely leaving small flecks of dog drool on Ryan’s car. His ears flapped joyously in the sun, blooming in small wisps and curls of smoke, like he was blowing away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amazing. He couldn’t even have turned into a shih tzu or something stupid. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>hellhound</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we’re going to the precinct.” Was all Ryan said aloud. Shane huffed, one of those tired whuffling dog sounds that can’t be replicated in soulfulness and sadness. “Well! What do you want me to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane just sighed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This sucked. The precincts recovery for magical mishaps was… government funded at best. Which wasn’t what you wanted if your boyfriend had just been transmogrified into a mystic beast created to watch over his true form. They weren’t as interested in fixing the accidents, Ryan knew, as they were in studying them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one hand, he understood that while the magick had existed for hundreds of years, their debut had come about relatively recently. What little information had undergone investigation by the scientific community was hard to come by, harder to understand. It made sense, he tried to tell himself, to take the opportunity to study a phenomenon while it was happening…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But right now he just sort of wanted his rude, sharp spaghetti noodle back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan sighed himself and rotated the wheel, turning out onto the highway building up speed. It was beautiful outside today,a little after noon, and the air made everything look crisp like a reflection, glassier. Beautiful. Damn. And he was going to spend it locked up in the Bureau, filing medical forms…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced in the rearview mirror, to see shane nosing at the cracked window, eyes taking in the scenery wistfully and slammed his hand on the steering wheel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it. You wanna go to the park, dude?” Ryan asked, and Shane went a little bonkers, patting his sharp-clawed paws, wagging his wispy tail, and barking enough to bring the roof down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, okay.” Ryan said laughing. “Let’s go to the park.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The first park Ryan knew was crowded and required leashes so they drove out a bit and circled a piece of upscale suburbia until they found a piece of property to park beside, and Shane could float out of the backseat and run free across the loamy ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun on his coat made him look like something out of a dream, the light absorbing directly into him and Ryan fished for anything, anything at all to throw in the back of his car, discovering in the meantime that Shane had slobbered on just about everything back there. It made Ryan grin, even though it was dumb and definitely gross. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always wanted a dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not the weird chattering cages of soon-to-be sacrifices that filled his parents' shop, or the haunting cats that hung around the little graveyard out back like lost souls, eyes blown green, like they were permanently startled, fur always raised. But like. A normal, furry pet, who slept on his bed, and ate his homework, and wouldn’t ever meet the business end of a machete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane bounded back up to him, and Ryan noticed with amusement that his feet were leaving little patches of withered grass behind him, where he stepped. A hellhound was not a normal pet, but he barked and- Ryan tossed the little stress ball he’d found high and far- watched Shane take off like an arrow. He fetched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan grinned and followed after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane ran circles around him. Ryan did his best to keep up, but if he got a little too quick in their game of chase and fetch Shane just turned into a formless mist and floated ahead of him, a little patch of fog hilariously visible under the sunshine. Ryan had tried explaining that was cheating, but Shane had just tilted his head to the side and panted. Barked when Ryan called him an asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the little stress ball was just slobber and pieces, Shane was draped across his feet panting. They’d found a tiny creek running along the back of the park, with a high embankment. Shane had snapped at minnows (cute), sneezed underwater (hilarious) and soaked Ryan up to the ankle (</span>
  <em>
    <span>really?</span>
  </em>
  <span>), but it was worth it for the sudden content in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan let his hand drift down and sink into the diaphanous smoke of Shane’s ears, and scritch, until he whined. Let himself smile. Even though they saw each other more than ever before, work wasn’t a date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a date?” Ryan wondered aloud, and Shane snorted on his knee. It was a response sure, but it hardly made him feel less alone. “Maybe it would be if you could talk…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he let one hand ground him, sinking into the grass, and one hand ruffled through the smoke of Shane’s top coat, watching the sun sink behind the trees. Let himself thaw in the setting sun. Let the crickets come out and he sunk, feeling his patch of earth cooling down for bed. Only realized Shane had transformed back when his hand met skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, baby.” Shane said, and Ryan smacked his shoulder without further hesitation, squinting a bit to see him. Darkness was setting in, Ryan realized, and faster than he’d known. “Heard you missed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cleaning my car.” Ryan told him, but Shane just grinned, a satisfied smile. Stretched a little, and oh, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> naked. “You- you’re- “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mouth tastes horrible.” Shane said, and Ryan barked a laugh, unable to look away from the long, pale stretch of his body. The smooth flex of his shoulders, the rise and fall of his ribs, rounded hips, long pale legs… “What was that stress ball made of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stress.” Ryan told him. “Hey. I wanted to ask you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Shane said, one eyebrow raised as he sat up, naked like some eldritch dream. “What’s up, that can’t wait for pants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to move in with me.” Ryan said. He felt distant as he said the words, some strange defense to the terror filling him at the thought that this beautiful man might look at him with regret- disappointment- pity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Shane was laughing- laughed harder when Ryan glared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Ryan told him, but Shane was grinning, clearly excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you don’t want me to tell you yes?” Shane teased, and Ryan was scowling, even as his heart filled up with love as bright as sunshine. “Yes, Ryan, stop pouting. To be honest I was getting really tired of leaving at five am-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sort of hate when you leave.” Ryan said, feeling like an idiot the higher Shane’s eyebrows got. “Even when I want you to go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they were kissing, and now it felt distant in the way dreams did that are too good. All cool, bare skin and crickets sounding off in the background. It was nice. It was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Better than all the sunshine in LA.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last of the old stuff, and the end of this series. I'll probably write a handfasting ceremony eventually, because I'm a sap, and like to end on a good note.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He wasn’t really asleep, he was dead. Ryan had studied it in school, before he’d ever thought of… them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was why it was weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And it could just be, like, blood flow. The slight rigor Shane gained an hour after every sunrise, once he was normally long since tucked into bed. However, Shane had told him, in a wandering conversation over beer and wings (that Ryan hadn’t known how to end), that he did have dreams. And then he’d talked to Ryan about that recurring dream where he had to raise his grandma, and she yelled at him for not finishing Sunday school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan had been pretty drunk after all of that, so Shane had taken him back to his apartment and put him to bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But surely dreams- good dreams- could lead to this. To his-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his </span>
  <em>
    <span>enormous boner</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ryan thought, swallowing a giggle, resting his head where his arm was leaning on the door frame. He had an interview this morning, so he’d woken early standing under the shower, trying to wash away the dark circles under his eyes. Came back to the room to get dressed, and found his love dead to the world just as he should be, popping a tent in their sheets big enough that boy scouts could camp under. Ryan muffled another giggle into the crook of his elbow and shook his head. He didn’t have time for this- he needed his tie, and those little footie dress socks he hated, but were the only thing that went with his new dress shoes- and- and he needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop staring at his boyfriend’s gigantic boner-</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True vampire hypnosis, Ryan thought, and lost himself to the giggles again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> situation. Another wheeze, hastily stuffed into his arm to muffle it. As though he could wake Shane if he tried. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard though... and every once in a while it twitched. Just enough to stir the sheet covering him, to catch Ryan’s eye and draw it exactly where he was trying not to stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did he even have the blood for this? Ryan wondered and then shook himself free of the thought. Tied his tie in a loose knot to be tightened in the car- his neck still ached from the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until he was a cog in the gear of LA traffic that Ryan let himself think about- about any of it. About Shane’s cock trying to wave hello through their sheet set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About how much Ryan had wanted to wave back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Creepy, man.’ Ryan scolded himself, feeling a little bad about the thought. Even if you completely ignored the fact that Shane was technically dead- the consent there was all- all-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still. He’d wanted to touch him. Bad enough that when he’d come out of the bathroom, and had ducked close to kiss Shane goodbye- something he did every time even if the vampire was dead to the world- he’d shoved his hands in his pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan was a necromancer. It was normal to want to get close to the dead in his line of work- He was still often the only person to notice Shane entering a room, all one million feet of him, like his spidey senses were tingling, but for dead people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane had hated that so much at first, and now he’d just quirk an eyebrow at him when their eyes met, sometimes toss him a wink. Like he was part of the club now. The Shane Club.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Ryan loved being part of the Shane club, even though he could never tell him that. It would just make Shane act like he was hot shit with everybody for a week, and then with Ryan for the rest of his life. Insufferable. It was because his big head had so much room to be smug in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan, for one second let his mind linger on the pale lines of Shane’s body, bisected by the red drape of the sheets they’d picked out together (it was the only logical color choice, given how much Shane loved to snack in bed) the intent of his body, unhindered by his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Ryan re-adjusted his slacks and drove to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Work was stressful enough he didn’t really give it a second thought until he was home, after he’d toed off his shoes by the door, after he’d hung his jacket up. He thought about it just for a second, as he was giving Shane his ‘I’m home’ kiss, and then firmly pushed the thought to the back of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Until next week, when it happened again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was off that day, which meant Ryan woke up at noon, disoriented and somehow still sleepy. He blamed the blackout curtains in the bedroom, a necessity for the vampire, but hell on Ryan’s circadian rhythms. He yawned, burrowing a little deeper in the bedding, unwilling to break the comforting darkness with the glare of his phone just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane’s arm was still around him from the night before, even though now it lay with dead weight, heavy across his body. It had taken him a while to trust Ryan with him when he was this defenseless, the most vulnerable a vampire could really be. Now, he was normally in bed before Ryan was, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, hair an artful tousle. That’s what Ryan got for dating an old man, he supposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last night, Shane had been out before they could even…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan tucked his head further under the covers, until only his eyes peeped out, feeling like an idiot. He was still a little hard just from waking- but Shane wouldn’t be awake for another couple of hours at least. Ryan shifted trying to decide if there was enough pressure in his bladder to warrant a trip to the bathroom, or if he should just go back to sleep, and wake back up when Shane did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stiff presence, hard enough to feel through a thick layer of down, pressed into his ass. But- how- Ryan’s eyes widened as his sleep-addled brain finally connected the dots. His hand crept slowly between them, leaving his pocket of warmth for the neutral cool of Shane’s half of the bed, fumbling until his hand finally landed smack on the obscene familiarity of Shane’s dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to giggle. Sort of. Ryan flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of his love in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanted to feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that curious sensation of hard flesh and cool skin that was just another quirk of the dead. He could feel himself hardening further, the longer he thought about it- about Shane laying there, completely unaware of how vulnerable he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed a cold shower, not a cold cock. Ryan drew his hand away, and almost immediately, the guilt set in. He sat up, flinging the covers from his legs, hissing when his toes met the cold floor. Jesus. And he’d just been going on and on about Shane trusting him in his bed, only to pull this shit?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shower was punishingly cold, but he deserved it.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan was being weirder than normal this morning. Shane frowned across the table at him, not bothering with subtlety, because Ryan couldn’t seem to look at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had brushed a wispy kiss to his cheek, on Shane’s way to the bathroom, and then had spent his morning divining his cereal. Eyebrows drawn tightly together, chewing quickly- it was weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being weird.” Shane told him, and Ryan dared a glance at his face, before burying his gaze back into the big pile of cheerios in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.” Ryan said, and then stuffed an enormous bite into his mouth, and chewed vigorously. “I’m great. Going hard. I mean, ready to go hard, I’m ready to go-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- Ryan- what are-” Shane asked, exasperated. “What are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Ryan said, and then winced. “ItouchedyourdickwhileyouwereasleepI’msosorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry!” Ryan said, his voice ticking higher as he finally met Shane’s eyes. Shane could hear his heartbeat, thumping like a rabbit, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>faster</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “You were asleep- but I wasn’t- and you were so hard- and really it was your fault for sleeping so early last night, before we even had a chance to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ryan.” Shane said slowly, and Ryan went quiet, his eyes darting nervously around the room, before landing back on his cereal so heavily, Shane was surprised he didn’t hear a little ‘plop’. “Buddy. What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I touched your dick while you were sleeping!” Ryan wailed, and Shane could feel his eyebrows beginning to rise of their own accord. “I woke up, and you were hard again- it wasn’t- I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very naughty.” Shane said solemnly, and Ryan buried his face in his hands, muffling his groan. “No- Ry- c’mon stop. It isn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You trust me with your defenseless body- and I- and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think I came.” Shane said, wriggling in his seat a little, like that would tell him anything. “Did I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god no.” Ryan said. He sounded so mortified, Shane couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t- I barely touched- but I wanted-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan stuttered to a stop, and dear god he couldn’t stop there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted what?” Shane asked, after a long, quiet pause. He was fascinated, and then when Ryan finally pulled his face free of his hands and looked genuinely upset, Shane was shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted- I wanted to touch you.” Ryan said. “I’m so, so, so sorry, I just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, baby, whoa.” Shane said, reaching awkwardly across the table between his morning mug of blood and cereal, and the butter for Ryan’s toast to take his hand, lacing their fingers together. “You can touch me, like, whenever. Blanket permission, okay? This bod is open for business day or night-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan pulled his hand away, slowly and sat for a second, looking at the palm of his hands. They were scarred and worn, several fingers still bandaged, fresh wounds from recent raisings. Shane could drink blood from the bag, but the lesser dead require something a little fresher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t- it isn’t something I should want.” Ryan said finally, and Shane blinked before laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- what-” He was still laughing until he saw how mournful Ryan looked. “That isn’t- Ry, ya want what you want- things like that aren’t always about should or shouldn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you’re a sex-therapist now?” Ryan snapped. “Helping me to unlive my best unlife-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- I’m- You don’t think it wasn’t an adjustment mixing blood and sex?” Shane asked. “In the 1800’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cradle-robber.” Ryan muttered, not for the first time, but he was smiling, just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you baby?” Shane asked, and Ryan looked at him, wide bright eyes across their breakfast table. “Anytime. But I’d say that was pretty harsh words from a grave-robber.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan was laughing before he meant to- that adorable, uncalculated wheeze that meant he couldn’t help but laugh, and thank goodness- he’d been sad for about fifteen minutes- way too long. Shane smiled at him fondly. And for the first time actually let himself think about the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thought about Ryan wanting him in the still dead of their bedroom, light creeping under the door. He had been so afraid at first that he’d lose Ryan to the sunshine- for a necromancer his boy loved contact sports- that to hear him unable to resist Shane’s pull while he was literally dead to the world-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thought about Ryan’s hot, greedy hands on his cool body, moving him exactly where he wanted him, using him exactly as he wanted him and all Shane had to do was lay there and take it. It was an attractive thought- something Shane chalked up to his unwavering trust in Ryan’s honest nature. Knew that if Shane let him, Ryan would treat his body with the respect it deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thought about Ryan’s hot, hard knuckled hands- about the way they squeezed just a little too hard on his hips when Ryan fucked into him- the way his teeth always bit just a little harder than Shane expected from a human. Thought about giving Ryan a chance to squeeze as hard as he wanted, and now Shane was half-hard under the table, and honestly a little disappointed in himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-never have to do anything-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should definitely fuck me like that.” Shane interrupted him and Ryan cut off, looking annoyed and sort of gobsmacked. And then he got that shifty, sweaty look that meant he was hard under the table, and thank god. Shane hated to drink alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- no.” Ryan said. “I can’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should.” Shane said, like it was a dare. “I can’t stop you, anyway. How can I know you didn’t fuck me last night-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t-” Ryan started, stopped. Swallowed and then met Shane’s eyes challengingly. Good, he’d gotten the bit. “You- you wouldn’t. Not unless my fat load drips out while you’re sitting at the station-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boy.” Shane muttered, his eyes dropping to the wild beat of Ryan’s pulse in his neck. He loved when Ryan upped the ante. “Speaking of the station, I should go. See you tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a raising.” Ryan said mournfully. “I’ll get back, just as…. you.... go to bed…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence fell over the kitchen, and Shane let it sink in for a few seconds before quirking a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even better. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> see you then.” He stood, brushing a kiss Ryan’s forehead. “I’ll be sure to feed before bed, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucker.” Ryan said, but he was sort of breathless. Shane didn’t bother to respond. As all good midwesterners knew, gloating was best done in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan’s day was pretty terrible, after that. Shane puttered around the house for a few more minutes, finding his keys, toeing on his shoes and then spent a few minutes kissing Ryan lingeringly on the mouth and throat, hungry, trailing wet kisses, the kind of kisses you gave to start something, not to say goodbye. Ryan had to have a quick, furious orgasm in the shower, before hopping into LA’s five ‘o clock traffic. First he had a debriefing for a case he was testifying for, and then two raisings, one partial and one full body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Traffic was horrible. He was late to the debriefing, and the lawyer, clearly used to working the daytime hours, had left the junior member to hear his testimony- and he had no idea what he was doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan walked him through a typical raising, told him what this particular witness said, even helped structure the DA’s argument a bit- and it still took an hour longer than it really should have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back into traffic, and he was starving. Getting a burger took another thirty minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cemetery was chilly when he got there. He could hear distant chanting, from one of the other mausoleums maybe, another necromancer doing a raising. It was a warming thought, that he wasn’t out in this chilly place alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have rather had Shane with him, but it was his night for night shift at the station- Shane mostly used the time to catch up on paperwork- work on the colder cases. It was a productive night for both of them and Ryan still thought it felt lonely. He pulled his brown leather jacket a little tighter around himself, hiding from some preternatural chill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only a partial here, at least. Stoneview was one of Ryan’s least favorite cemeteries. The grass was always dewey, and just a little too high, the graves placed in sporadic plots that left you feeling both cornered and vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the band-aid off of his finger, and sliced it, quick like peeling an apple. His blood dripped onto the ground, soaked in. He began the recitation with a steady voice, and like always about halfway through he was sweating. The words marched off his lips, the power using his body like a hallway, hardly bothering to wipe its feet, and afterwards, like always, Ryan was left shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking, sweating and standing before the ethereal form of Esther Castillo. Her granddaughter had been promised a butterfly necklace, but the family caring for her couldn’t find it. He’d been tasked with asking the spirit for clearer directions than left in it’s will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask Mr. Piggies.” She told him, the shaky treeline of Stoneview clearly visible through the ample curve of her chest. “He loves to steal my earrings- I’m not surprised losing me may have caused him to try a bigger target.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Piggies was the cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thumb stung, as he pulled smoothly back onto the feter, nosing his car into the spacey, sleeping traffic. At three am he felt like the only part of L.A. that wasn’t drunk at all, not even on the city's lights and noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another cemetery, and this time he had to carry the chicken from the back of his jeep, the cage rattling against his thighs the whole week to the grave site.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere was heavy when he got there, only about twenty minutes late- better than he’d hoped, and he’d still be racing the sun, exactly what he hadn’t wanted tonight. The family had already arrived, and they eyed his tired slacks, and rustling chicken with the standard amount of disdain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disgust at the blood- horror as their aunt howled herself from the ground, dirt under her nails and just messily… re-assembled, because she’d been messily buried after the car accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once it proved to be her, the family was all in tears, and Ryan did his best to give them distance without leaving the circle that held him in with the dead, kept the living at bay. She hadn’t left a will and a lawyer was on sight. One not quite as used to the night life as Ryan was, judging by his pale skin and bloodshot eyes, was there to draft it up, and notarize while they had her with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a long raising, and Ryan’s fingernails ached as they let her sink back into the wet earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning traffic on his way back to the house, and Ryan had forgotten all about his embarrassing admission when his phone vibed on the seat beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey baby. “ Ryan said, and shit- only fifteen minutes until dawn, he’d never make it home- he was honestly surprised Shane was still awake. “I’m on my way home, but I’ll probably -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” Shane said, and he sounded a little- weird. Not bad, or mad or hurt or any of the slight variations Ryan had come to read like the news into Shane’s voice. “I’m- I wanted to hear your voice- I’m-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane groaned, like he was trying not to, and the sound pulled Ryan’s dick up like it was on a fucking leash, made his stomach roll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ- what are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fed.” Shane said, and he was, he was fucking panting, and Ryan was not- not fucking okay- “And, then I drank a little more, just to, y’know, make sure, and now-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing now?” Ryan asked, but he was pretty sure he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just-getting ready- for you-” Shane sucked in a deep breath, and Ryan squeezed the wheel, one-handed. “One f-finger- and then- another- and then the toy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go faster.” Ryan said, whispered it like he wasn’t alone in the fucking car. It must’ve worked, because Shane sucked in a breath and then whined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan was going to drive </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span> traffic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Ryan, can’t wait to not see you.” Shane said, laughed- groaned again. “Shit- I’ve gotta- I’ll cum-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t-” Ryan said, much louder, and Shane stuttered out another laugh, breathed heavy for a long second, before laughing more naturally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close.” He said. “I’m- I’m kind of dripping-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-miss you-” Shane told him, and Ryan felt his heart beat faster in his chest. If only he were home, Shane would be able to hear it, even across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you too.” Ryan said. “You want me to stay on the phone until-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want.” Shane said, like it was nothing- Ryan could still hear the relief in his voice. Wondered if he’d been this lonely other work nights, tucking himself into their bed, and waiting for death. “I like hearing you before bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should always call.” Ryan said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No- you don’t- that’s so cheesy. We’re not cheesy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like hearing your voice too.” Ryan said sincerely, and Shane made a noise of insincere disgust at his earnest behavior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus- thats. Okay, but I’ll probably forget.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t.” Ryan said, recklessly sure he wouldn't forget this, wouldn’t forget the sleepy, heated slur of Shane’s voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow even if I’m just in the kitchen doing the dishes-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way!” Shane interjected. “You never do the dishes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan laughed, and Shane joined in- and then he was silent, and it took the sun in his eyes to realize that Shane had died- even if only for eight or so hours, this late in autumn. It made tears well in his eyes, sudden and unprompted, alone now except for the hissing silence on the other end of the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't hang up until he had reached their parking spot and jogged upstairs. As soon as their lease was up they were getting an underground apartment. Somewhere with better security. They had too many enemies for a simple walk-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few locks and a few steps, and then he was creaking open their bedroom door, shutting it quickly behind him, the sunlight an unwelcome guest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane was naked on the bed, and hard enough that his cock was red with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan felt his own cock twitch- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was still covered in fucking chicken blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stripped slowly, considering, watching Shane’s completely still form, strewn in the center of their mattress, his legs spread wide enough Ryan could see where his skin began to shine from the lube. It was intimate, here in the cool dark of their bedroom, air already smelling of sex from Shane’s preparations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The extra blood had certainly worked- his skin was still flushed down the vee of his chest, running into the patches of sparse brown hair that began at his navel and ran lower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan tore his eyes away, and headed for the bedroom naked and already hard, his cock smacking into his thigh with the fury of his steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shower was cold, but that did nothing. He wanted this too much. He lathered until his arms were pink and foaming with blood, and the water had turned hot- hot enough to pink his skin even under the lather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot enough that when he pressed his hands to Shane’s skin the shock was like ice, enough to make him shiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane of course, didn’t move, and Ryan giggled quietly under his breath feeling sort of idiotic. Crouched over his powerful, vampire boyfriend, cupping his thighs, giggling like a serial killer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane would think he was a moron...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Shane wouldn’t have this memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he was definitely here, definitely a participant- he’d still never remember Ryan’s stupid laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sort of a melancholy thought, but it eased Ryan’s nerves, and after a moment his overly warm hands began to explore. He spanned the breadth of Shane’s shoulders, wondering at how cool he was, how fine his skin felt against the callus of Ryan’s scarred fingers. His hands, slid down, brushing sparse hairs that crinkled cleanly under his exploring hands, to brush against the flat brown nubs of his nipples. His skin was relaxed, unaroused and Ryan spent a few moments brushing his thumbs back and forth until they peaked, standing straight. The uncontrolled reaction made heat spiral in his gut, and when he rocked forward crouched over Shane’s thighs, his stomach made contact with his erect cock. Shane groaned, a loud, haunting sound that seemed dragged from him. It made Ryan’s hands pause, made his pulse jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time he really believed he was going to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today sucked.” He told Shane, rubbing his belly in the flat, firm strokes Ryan always wanted to- the ones Shane said made him feel like he had to fart. “I should’ve stayed home, spent all night in bed with you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands paused on Shane’s belly, before drifting lower, framing the patch of hair surrounding his risen cock. Not for the first time, Ryan thought that vampires were weird, and then he slid a little further down, so that he was eye level with the only part of his boyfriend that was awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll spend all day in bed with you instead.” Ryan said, and Shane, predictably didn’t say anything. It was weird having Shane quiet like this. Funny- a little lonely… a lot freeing. Ryan sucked the head of his cock into his mouth, and it was stupid, he was still flushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane tasted the same, maybe stronger, but Ryan attributed that to his early flirtations over the phone and laved his tongue across the reddened slit, cleaning him of bitter precum. Otherwise, the only difference was that he’s a little colder, a lot harder- and that at no point when Ryan rolled his eyes up to look up at his face, he was pretending to be cross-eyed so Ryan would snort and choke on his dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an asshole.” Ryan pulled off to tell him loudly, fond just thinking about it and some fine tension he hadn’t noticed building in Shane’s thigh eased, his leg relaxing under his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you can feel this.” Ryan whispered. Shane always said how stupid it was that protagonists always seemed to narrate when they were by themselves, but he also said Ryan always screamed like Jamie Lee Curtis, which didn’t really bother Ryan, mostly because Jamie Lee Curtis kicked ass in Alien. Still seemed impolite when Shane materializing unexpectedly behind him was what made him yelp. “I’m gonna blow your mind, bud… and your dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan popped him some sick finger guns, and then threw in a wink, just fucking because. Then he bent back to his task. Nothing tentative now- he and Shane had been together long enough for him to know what he wanted. He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them so he could get smooth motion and actual suction, and normally he sort of let the motion do that- but this was definitely easier, and Shane wasn’t groaning from the way he looked. He couldn’t even see Ryan from this angle, and when Ryan flicked his eyes up on autopilot he realized he couldn’t see Shane’s face either. Just the long, flat stretch of his stomach and chest, the smart crest of his nose visible from Ryan’s position. He pulled off with a slick sound, and stood, feeling his own cock bobbing between his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s rearrange a little.” Ryan muttered, walking the mattress perimeter up to where his head was. It took most of the pillows to prop him up sufficiently, and he still looked wrong- strangely stiff and unreal, tucked haphazardly into their bed. His mouth was slack when Ryan pressed a kiss onto him, but he could feel his fangs behind his unmoving lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sort of hot. And he was into it enough that he didn’t want to think about why. Just wanted to pet Shane’s hair back into position, and then crawl down the bed to where he was before, and pull Shane all the way into his throat now that he could watch his eyelids move from the motion of his eyes, watch his chest heave with another groan from his slack jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Ryan said. “Okay. Now let’s see if you can come…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth sealed around the swollen crown of Shane’s cock, using his tongue just the way he knew Shane liked- at least while he was awake. The room was quiet- Ryan preferred absolute silence while he slept, and Shane was normally too dead to the world to care, which meant the quiet cave of their bedroom had become a symphony of wet, hungry sounds, the occasional dying groan, like Ryan was sucking the noise out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane’s chest was flushed and he was breathing steadily… a sure sign of arousal as Shane was normally pretentious enough to not bother with that formality of living. Ryan ducked his head to his task- eased Shane’s stiff legs open across the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the thing Ryan was nervous about- this act which, in life was something he thought about inconveniently at stop signs, and during raisings, and sometimes just when Shane winked at him, sprawled and open across their bed- one of Ryan’s favorite things. That- like this- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seemed… </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe disrespectful in some way. As though seeing Shane’s most private parts while he wasn’t… wasn’t home to supervise was an insult to his person, permission or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that- Ryan hates it- that was maybe why it was so hot. Why his own cock was twitching between his legs at the thought of Shane held still by his own body, while Ryan coated him in cold lube and eased a finger in. He was warm on the inside, even like this and while Ryan knew it must be all the blood he consumed before bed, it still encouraged him to wriggle further in. He was careful, despite Shane’s repose. It wasn’t hard to find where to crook his fingers, and when he did, Shane jolted, like he’d been shocked. Ryan grinned, and bent his head back to his previous task. All of this was much harder without Shane’s cooperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles of leg don’t hold themselves up, leaving him constantly shifting, so that he could find an easier angle for the motion of his arm and neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sort of awesome, and after a minute of quiet pleasure, he started to feel Shane’s stomach tensing under his hand, the lines of his legs shaking over his shoulders, and when Ryan redoubled his efforts, a near constant whine came from Shane’s open mouth. He could feel his ass squeezing around the single finger he had crooked inside him, and when Ryan felt his cock begin to drip, he rolled his eyes up again to watch Shane’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryan pulled off just as he came and Shane didn’t seem asleep, shaking and moaning, his hands clutching for Ryan’s shoulders, while his cock jerked and spit between them. After a second, he leaned back with a long sigh, and looked down into Ryan’s pissed off face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been awake?” Ryan snapped. “How long-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just now.” Shane said, his hand unclenching from Ryan’s shoulder, to bury itself in his hair instead, a long breath whooshing out of him. “Hell of a way to come alive. Hah. Literally. What time is it? You hungry, we could go out-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About fifty minutes after Dawn.” Ryan told him numbly. Watched Shane’s face change from peaceful post O, to incredulity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Ryan said. “I got home from work just after dawn-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And hopped right on these old bones.” Shane commented cheerfully, letting out a little yelp when Ryan pulled his hand free of Shane’s body. “Guess I’ve still got it after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you awake?” Ryan asked, bewildered.”This shouldn’t be physically possible-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I defy nature- or my dick does-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Ryan said, flushing, swatting Shane on the thigh. “This is crazy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being crazy. This- this is awesome. You uh- you want some help with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shane made a strange jerking hand-motion towards Ryan’s crotch- wiggled his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- well, yes.” Ryan said. “But we’re figuring this out first thing tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt stupid, but Shane just pulled him up, up the length of his body, until Ryan was kneeling comfortably across his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> first thing tomorrow.” Shane said reasonably. Ryan put his dick in his mouth mostly to shut him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But also because he loved him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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